


Not My Reality

by fhsa_archivist



Category: Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter - Laurell K. Hamilton, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-26
Updated: 2004-08-26
Packaged: 2019-02-05 18:55:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12800259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhsa_archivist/pseuds/fhsa_archivist
Summary: Author's Notes: For Warsslave, thanks for the constant feedback on everything I write.





	Not My Reality

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

Willow breathed a steamy sigh, tossing aside the novel she had been reading. It was one of her favorites, though she was loathe to admit it out loud, especially in light of the subject matter in the novel. Wouldn't Buffy laugh? Spike jeer? And Xander just look at her like she'd grown a second head? 

 

If they knew that she was reading a vampire novel. 

 

Not just any vampire novel, either. This one was what she considered the crème de le crème. The choicest morsel in a literary field littered with the indelicate remains of awful vampiric escapades which made her cringe at the very thought. No, this novel was one of the best. 

 

Laurell K Hamilton. 

 

Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter. 

 

She shivered in sinful delight, though not over the idea of the title character. No, Anita did nothing for her insofar as sexual fantasies. No, her lustful idealisms were centered around two of the actual vampires in the novel. 

 

Asher and Jean-Claude. 

 

Maybe it was because they were French. Or maybe it was because they were creatures of such intense sexual prowess and desire. She really couldn't have told anyone what it was, exactly, that drew her to fantasize about those two literary creatures; assuming one could get her to admit to reading the book in the first place, that was. 

 

She smiled, holding the novel to her chest, her eyes straining in the effort to stay awake. 

 

'Just one night with them, Goddess. Just one night in their arms. . .' 

 

~*~*~ 

 

"Cherie?" 

 

"Mademoiselle?" 

 

Willow's eyes fluttered open. 

 

"What --?" She blinked at the unfamiliar bed covering that greeted her sight. 

 

"You appeared out of nowhere." A voice said over to her left. "Simply dropped from the heavens, right into our laps." 

 

"Literally." Another voice, this was amused, was to her right. The accent was seductive, the voice silky. She turned her head, staring in amazement at the sight that greeted her. 

 

Vampire, her brain screamed immediately; though it was obvious that he wasn't he kind of vamp she was used to. Dark hair hung nearly to his waist, stopping at the edge of pants that appeared to be leather. He wasn't wearing a shirt and she could see a cross-shaped burn on his pale flesh. 

 

Cross-shaped burn. 

 

Her eyes widened and she turned quickly to the other side of the bed, and the other voice that had greeted her upon waking. 

 

Blonde hair, eyes that pierced right to her soul. And scars down one side of his face. Funny, she thought crazily, they weren't nearly as bad as the books described them. It was insane to even think that, though. 

 

She laughed. 

 

"I fail to see what is so amusing - " 

 

"I must be dreaming." Willow laughed, covering her face with her hands. "Because you two are just characters in a book. . . This must be some odd fantasy I'm having . . ." 

 

" I assure you," The one she knew to be Asher murmured, sitting on the edge of the bed. "We are most definitely real and not a dream." 

 

"So I just somehow ended up inside a book?" Willow asked him, raising an eyebrow in defiance. 

 

"Well," Jean-Claude smirked, settling onto the other side of the bed. "You *did* fall out of nowhere, cherie. Now - what was that about a fantasy?" 

 

Willow's eyes widened and she scrambled to sit up, a blush heating up her face. 

 

"N-nothing!" She stammered, shaking her head, her brain kicking into full babble mode. "There was nothing said about a fantasy. You must have hearing problems. Yeah - I remember that in the book, actually. Jean-Claude needs a hearing aide, page 216." 

 

"And me, petite? Did I need one as well?" Asher's smile was impudently sexy, and Willow felt her insides melt. 

 

"Well. . . no." She confessed, the traitorous blush still coloring her cheeks. 

 

"And so. . . you fantasize about him? Me? Both of us? Together?" The blonde haired vampire continued. She tore her eyes from his with no small amount of effort, staring firmly instead at the bed beneath her. The sheets looked like they were silk. Oh goodie. She was in a bed with two vampires straight from her dreams and the bed had silk sheets. 

 

Damnit. 

 

There went the blushing again. 

 

"Aagghh!" She screamed, jumping at the touch of a hand on her back. She was only wearing her nightgown, she noticed now. The same one she had been wearing when she went to bed, book in hand. 

 

"Relax." Jean-Claude murmured into her ear, his hand still rubbing her back. His voice was hypnotic, sexual, and filled with something that she could only have read about before. 

 

The ardeur. 

 

"Dear Goddess. . ." She managed to murmur, before his lips came down upon hers. This was not a good thing. 

 

Okay. 

 

Scratch that, her mind insisted. 

 

This was a -very, very- good thing. 

 

Asher was behind her now, his hands taking up where Jean-Claude's had left off. But he was so much more daring than the dark haired vampire had been. Where Jean-Claude had rubbed her through the thin cotton nightgown, Asher simply pulled it up, his warm hands rubbing at her skin; his mouth following. She could feel the occasional sharp prick as one of his fang teeth came too close to her skin; and she knew that those marks each gave off a drop or two of blood, which she felt licked away by his tongue. It was undeniably sensual, this sharing of affections, this giving of blood. It was only a taste, but one she gave willingly as Jean-Claude continued to devour her mouth. 

 

Her tongue scraped indelicately against one of his fangs, drawing a pained gasp from her. She could taste her own blood now, coppery saltiness in her mouth, and she pushed her tongue into Jean-Claude's mouth, allowing him a taste of herself. He latched on, sucking with passionate hunger; seeking to abate both hungers he dealt with daily - that of lust and blood. 

 

"So beautiful." Asher whispered into her ear, his mouth sucking at her neck, below her earlobe. His hands were still under her shirt, moving along her ribs, slowly inching towards - 

 

She moaned, arching forward into his touch as he found the hardened peaks of her nipples and pinched each one in turn. His hands were cool on the feverish heat of her breasts as he squeezed and massaged the tender flesh. 

 

"Please. . ." She whispered, tearing her mouth from Jean-Claude's. 

 

"Whatever my lady wishes." The dark haired creature's breath was ragged, pained. His eyes were dark with hungers that she would never truly understand, no matter how many times she had read about them. She knew that those hungers would need to be quenched, and it would be her body paying the price. Not even that thought served as a stumbling block for her heated motions, though. He was out of the bed in the blink of an eye, his clothing cast aside just as quickly. The speed of vampires back home was nothing compared to what she was witnessing at that moment. The books hadn't done it justice. Blink of an eye was very literal, it seemed. 

 

He pounced on her, predator to the last; his knees slipping between her legs as she fell back onto the bed. His mouth crashed down upon hers again, his tongue darting in and out of her mouth as he pushed her legs open. If she hadn't been willing to begin with, the red haired witch now realized there would be no way to get him to stop if he didn't want to. He was too strong. With one hand he held her hands above her head, tearing away her nightgown with the other. Asher was sitting back, now equally naked, his hands stroking his own thick length. 

 

"How did you picture us? In your fantasy?" Jean-Claude murmured, the head of his weeping shaft at the entrance to her body. 

 

Willow laughed. 

 

"I never could figure out how to make things work with two guys and one girl, to be honest." She admitted, with a blush. 

 

"Mmm. Innocence is quite an endearing trait." 

 

And then there were no words, his mouth pressing into hers as his cock pressed into her body. She moaned, shuddering beneath him. Oz had been her only male lover, and he didn't quite 'measure up' next to Jean-Claude, as far as she could tell. He hadn't been this thick, this filling. She felt as though she would split in two from the pressure; yet scream aloud from the pleasure all at the same time. She had thought it impossible to be filled this much. 

 

But she was. 

 

And, as he began to rock in and out of her, taking that length and working it even deeper into her grasping warmth, she thought she may die from the sheer pleasure of it all. 

 

Her hands roamed up and down his back, tracing over the angles of his shoulder blades, the perfect smoothness of his skin. She moaned, her head tilted back, her lips moving from his to move in soundless expressions of pleasure. His mouth would not be denied, though, and so lacking her lips for companionship, he found solace in her neck. Her eyes fluttered open, the bed creaking with movement that wasn't hers and wasn't that of the creature on top of her, filling her to her very core. 

 

She saw a flash of blonde hair over Jean-Claude's shoulders and her stomach tightened with that familiar rush of hormones that she knew to be intense lust. 

 

"Mon ami?" It was a question from Asher to Jean-Claude. From subservient to master. 

 

"Do it." Jean-Claude murmured, stilling his motions for a moment to allow the action he was giving his permission for. He groaned as Asher slipped a finger into the tight ring of muscles of his ass, resisting the urge to rock back and thus slip from the beauty lying so delicately before him. It didn't take long before there were two fingers sliding in and out, setting of sparks of pleasure as they hit his prostate time and time again. He groaned, the sound coming out as more of a growl. 

 

Willow heard more than saw when Asher entered Jean-Claude. She saw the Master of the City's eyes widen, his face go slack with pleasure as Asher began to slide in and out of him. She could see the blonde's face, too; saw as he leaned forward to kiss Jean-Claude's back, tasting him as he had tasted her not too long before. 

 

She wriggled beneath her partner, reminding him rather impatiently that she was still there and waiting for him to continue with what he had been doing. It only took a moment for them to pick up a pace and rhythm that was suitable to all of them. Asher sliding into Jean-Claude as he slid into Willow, and the back again. In and out. Deep and tight and impossibly large. She moaned, writhing beneath the vampire, her body and senses overloaded with the immensity of her pleasure. With each thrusting push he rubbed over that tiny convergence of nerves, bundled so close together with that warmth he was pressing into with such rough abandon. She cried out, each time, unable to deal with the sensations. 

 

Willow tossed her head back, baring the skin of her throat as she fell over that edge at last, her body shuddering beneath Jean-Claude. She heard a growl, a grunt, and then there was exquisite pain at her neck. She could feel him suckling as he released his seed into her, satisfying the ardeur with blood and sex as Asher spilled his seed within those tight channels he had been occupying. 

She moaned when Jean-Claude pulled from her, first mouth, then cock, his lips trailing from her forehead than to her lips, brushing kisses along the way. 

 

"You are a wonder, petite." 

 

Willow blushed, blinking sleepily at him. 

 

"Thank you. Both." She murmured, a yawn escaping from her mouth before she could stop it. 

 

"Sleep now." Asher suggested, curling up to her back like a great cat. 

 

'Not cat.' She thought tiredly, giving in to her body's sudden urge for sleep. 'Vampire. Not wereleopard, silly.' 

 

~*~*~ 

 

Something was ringing. 

 

A phone. 

 

An alarm. 

 

Oh, there, it stopped. 

 

Willow groaned, opening her eyes. 

 

Only to be met with the pure whiteness of her own ceiling. 

 

She frowned, sitting up slowly. 

 

Yes, this was definitely her room. 

 

And there was her copy of 'Narcissus in Chains', on the floor where it must have fallen the night before. 

 

"It was just a dream." She murmured, stretching her arms up over her head, one final yawn dribbling from her mouth. But what a dream it had been! Full of naughty, handsome vampires. She let her arms down slowly, wincing at the soreness she was experiencing there. She frowned, glancing down at her body for the first time as she became aware of muscles protesting in other, more discreet, areas. 

 

Where was her nightgown? 

 

She jumped up, practically tripping over her own feet in her haste to open her closet door, to stare into the mirror and - 

 

Oh fuck. 

 

Where did that bite mark come from? 

 

 

~*~The End~*~


End file.
